“Pops. Pops. Papa Tuesday. Yo.”
Papa Tuesday? Really? “What? What do you want?”
“Just sayin’, Pops. What’s the plan here? Gurung’s spilling pistachio shells all over the garden, man. Can you tell him to stop?”
“Not Pops. No Pops. No Papa. Melek Ahmar. Melek Ahmar. The . . .”
“Yeah yeah yeah, the King of Mars, the Lord of War, I gotcha, Papa Tuesday.”
Is there anything worse than a snarky djinn-girl teen? Is there? I don’t think so.
“So Pops, word is, you’re past it.”
“What?”
“Past it. Heard you’re washed up. Has been.”
“Fuck off! I’m busy.”
“Hey hey hey, don’t shoot the messenger. What I heard. I didn’t say it.” Her outrage was over the top and absolutely real. Which meant, of course, she had totally said it. “They’re saying all your buddies are gone and no one remembers you or gives a shit. About you.”
“If, as you have repeatedly mentioned, Horus and Memmion and Kuriken and Davala and all the others are gone, then it merely reconfirms the fact that I am the most powerful djinn left in this world! There’s no one alive who can match me. You are lucky you have—”
“Yeah yeah, I understand that, it’s just that Hazard rules around here, and they’re saying if we make too many waves he might come over and squash us.” ReGi was relishing her role as chief tormentor and had taken to literally stalking Melek Ahmar around the off-kilter garden.
“Hazard?” This was a name new to him. “Who the fuck is that?”
“You know, deadly duelist, undefeated . . . ?”
“Duelist? I don’t duel. I use my mace to flatten mountains.”
“Yeah, and rivers and lakes and stuff.”
“No . . . what? How can you flatten a lake?”
“Never mind. Hazard. You know, Hazard. Dark, sexy, and handsome? Mysterious air? Kind of brooding all the time?”
“I don’t have a fucking clue who this Hazard is, but he’s beginning to piss me off just for being a dickhead . . .”
“Come on, everyone’s heard of Hazard . . . he’s like a rockstar,” ReGi said. “All jackally and shit . . .”
“Wait. Jackally?”
“Yeah. Jackal head, duh.”
“Jackal head. You couldn’t have led with that?”
“So you do know him, huh?”
“If you’re talking about Anubis, then yes, I know the kid. Can’t be two assholes wearing jackal heads. I once stuffed his ass in an inverted underground pyramid. Took him twenty years to get loose. If that’s the best you’ve got . . .”
“Your funeral,” ReGi said sotto voice. “So Pops, like I’m totally stoked to join your three-man army and shit, but what the fuck are we actually doing?”
“Gurung is making a plan,” Melek Ahmar said loftily.
“Gurung? Uncle Gurung?”
“Yes.”
“The old dude who’s not a djinn?”
“Right.”
“Whose special power is eating pistachios?”
“Hrrrm, yes.”
“So like he’s the man with the plan?”
“Well, he’s the native informant, right? Our inside man, isn’t he? And you have to admit, he hates these bastards,” Melek Ahmar said. “I mean, I just wanted to rule this place, but he’s pushing for total destruction. Tear out every brick and sow salt in the earth type of thing. Wants to rip out Karma.”
“Yeah, about that,” ReGi said. “Don’t you think that’s a bit abnormal? Like I don’t know about you, but I kind of like the city. Couldn’t you rein him in a bit?”
Melek Ahmar looked gloomy. “Between you and me, he’s a bit scary. I mean, not to me, of course, but I can see how he’d terrify the Humes. He’s always smiling, right? But look at his eyes. Nothing.”
“Yeah, he’s a psycho, Pops.”
“Shh shhh shusshhhh, he’s going to hear us, he’s coming . . .”
“Djinn.” Gurung gave them a short bow.
“Hume,” Melek Ahmar responded. The smiling Gurkha looked unusually grave.
“There are no rebels left in this city,” Gurung said. “No army to raise, no gangs, no malcontents. Karma sees everything and she gives value to all.”
“Oh well, too bad, then,” Melek Ahmar said with a smirk. “No use kicking up a fuss. We’ll just squat around here until someone kicks us out . . . Or tries to, anyway. The tourists from hell is what Karma’s gonna get. What I want to do is get into some of those fancy bars uptown . . .”
“But you’re a king!” Gurung said, a glint in his eye.
“Eh, yeah, but I’m on sabbatical . . .”
“We cannot brook this kind of dishonor.”
“Look, I mean, I appreciate it, but really, no need to go out of your way . . .”
“There are other ways to skin a cat,” Gurung said. “A king you are, noble lord of Tuesday, and a kingdom you shall have, this I have sworn, when you took me into your service.”
“Eh? You did? I did? I mean, did I take you into service? I don’t exactly recall . . .”
“I have sworn!”
“Ahem, yes, of course, if you’ve sworn.” Melek Ahmar looked helplessly at ReGi for support, and only got a roll of her goth-black eyes. That was the problem with djinn. They never stepped up. “Irrevocable blood oath, was it?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Of course not.” Bloody irrevocable blood oaths. Never take smiling Gurkhas into service while tipsy. This must be added to the Lore.
“The points. Karma gives points according to calculations. She does not choose,” Gurung said. “My King, if you had the most points, if you had enough points to beggar the entire list, you would rule through Karma.”
“But we’re zeroes,” Melek Ahmar said. Thank god. Being a zero looks pretty good about now.
“The Lady of the Garden is not,” Gurung pointed out.
“What? You’ve got points?” Melek Ahmar scowled at her. “How?”
ReGi shrugged. “I’m the djinn of the garden. People come here with all kinds of ridiculous wishes and stuff. Sometimes I help them out. Karma gives points for being helpful, you know, you should try it sometime.”
“You’re sitting here giving wishes?” Melek Ahmar bristled. “Like a fucking genie in a lamp?”
“Hrrmmm drugs,” Gurung coughed.
“What?”
“I believe the lady actually dispenses drugs.”
“Yeah, so?” ReGi said. “Look, like Gurung says, Karma doesn’t make value judgments. People want drugs sometimes that they can’t get from the synthesizers, and I give them to them. Herbalists, you know, nature lovers. I’m actually keeping alive ancient traditions and culture.”
“So Karma is giving you points for selling drugs to people?” Melek Ahmar asked. “This isn’t illegal in any way?”
“That’s what people still don’t understand about her. Karma isn’t aware. She doesn’t have a moral precept. She ratifies the market whenever there’s a free trade. She gives fair value to everything, by calculating to a preciseness that is humanly inconceivable. So no one gets cheated, everything is true value, but ultimately that value is determined by what people want. Provided you don’t destroy city functions, you can do whatever you want under fair market value. Ergo, people give me points and I give them drugs, and because they’re rare, Karma fixes a high value on the commodity.”
“So for example, if everyone wanted Gurung dead, then I would get points for killing him?” Melek Ahmar asked.
“Well, I suppose, yes. Although presumably her predictive functions wouldn’t let it get that far,” ReGi said.
“Not that everyone wants you killed,” Melek Ahmar said hastily to Gurung, who had begun to unconsciously fondle his damned kukri. “Figure of speech. So why hasn’t this oracle-machine arrested us? Surely they must know we are here to conquer?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” ReGi said. “Our distortion fields cause interference. The predictive functions don’t work with djinn, especially ones with very strong fields. Apparently the distortion sphere causes so much basic quantum uncertainty that mathematically it is debatable whether we even exist or not.”
“Is that so? So the oracle is blind to us? Thus they cannot predict the societal harm you are doing with your petty drug business . . .”
“Herbal business!” ReGi snapped. “And I’m making everyone very happy, thank you, I’m one hundred percent organic. Try smoking that vat stuff and tell me I’m causing harm!”
“The lady is 478 on the list, I believe,” Gurung said.
“You’re in the top five hundred?” Melek Ahmar said. “From selling weed?”
“I’ve got a big garden.” ReGi smirked. “One hundred percent organic leaf, baby. Priceless stuff.”
“Right, I’m taking this venture over,” Melek Ahmar said. “And we need to start selling harder stuff. It’ll be a lot easier to get to the top from 478 than from zero.”
“Precisely my thinking, Lord,” Gurung said.
“Hey!” ReGi said.
“You want me to flatten everything for real?” Melek Ahmar asked.
“Fine. Just muscle in. See if I care.”
“Look don’t worry, when I’m king, you’ll be my deputy king for sure,” Melek Ahmar said. “I’ll flatten that tower Gurung stares at all day and turn it into one giant garden for you.”
“We will tear it down, yes,” Gurung said with a smile. “But it will be a mausoleum, I think.”